


Color of Our Souls

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Friendship, Gen, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Past Drug Addiction, Post 1x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's your favorite color, mister?" A question asked by a very young patient surprises Mario, and it further surprises the resident how long it takes for him to answer as well as the answer itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color of Our Souls

_Colors of Our Souls_

 

         “What’s your favorite color, mister?”

          “Hmm?” Mario looked up from the cast he had just set and looked up at the girl who had asked him that question. Her dark hair was short, and her plump face of six years no longer held the pain and discomfort that it had when she had first arrived in the ER with a broken arm. Mario had been the one to treat her. Although the resident was certain that Angus or Christa would be a better fit for a crying child and a frightened mother that couldn’t barely contain her panic, the dark-haired resident knew that doctors – particularly residents – didn’t choose their patients.

              And so Mario attempted to be as gentle as possible to the girl who had an accident while riding her bike, telling her that she would have to get an x-ray before they could find out why her arm was hurting so bad. The dark-haired resident had been surprised when the little girl stopped crying shortly after he had said those words, and he was further surprised when the six-year old asked him if he would be with her during the examination. Mario didn’t have the heart to say no.

              _I’m getting soft,_ Mario had thought to himself when he watched the child stand still as the machine took a picture of what the resident suspected was a broken arm. Normally, nurses or other staff would take very young patients and their families to radiology. If it had been a year ago, perhaps Mario would have asked Jesse or Malaya to take the young patient to radiology. They were better at treating messes of tearful children than him, anyway. But still…Mario had learned that her name was Joan Tilton, and had been riding on a bicycle when the bike had hit a rock and she fell. Her mother was always asking questions if her baby was going to okay, and Mario almost smirked at the pout on her daughter’s face at the endearment. As quickly as the amusement had come however, resentment came. It was only for a brief moment, however… Mario wondered what it would have been like if his parents had cared enough about him the way that Connie Tilton cared about her daughter. _“I know what a dislocated hip feels like.”_ In that time of his life, there had been no one to care for him. Mario could easily remember dragging himself home to yet another shouting match between him and his grandmother after a dealing gone bad. According to his dealer, he hadn’t meant to turn him the wrong way. The hip hurt like hell, and Mario could still remember his grandmother’s cold words.

              _“If you are stupid enough to get yourself hurt after another one of your activities, then you can wait until morning to go to the damn ER.”_

Mario’s memories broke when Joan looked up at him with her big brown eyes and asked him where they were going. The resident recognized of how nervous the six-year old was, and reassured he would be there for the procedure.

              _“There will be a small amount of pain, but I’ll be there, okay?”_

Mario tried to not notice of how Joan’s eyes still widened in fear. Nor did he attempt to realize that he had made a promise to a child, who probably wanted her mother and not him to comfort her as her bone was reset. It surprised him of how Joan had latched onto him, asking him shyly before the IV was put into her vein to administer the pain if he would hold her hand. Angus, who was going to be setting the bone, smiled as Mario was silent for a couple of moments. Jesse too was pretending not to be pleased. _I guess I’m a better person now,_ the resident thought as he heard the clean sound of a bone snapping into place. Even though the pain was numbed, Joan still held onto his hand as if he was the only one that would provide comfort, her mother watching wearily as she stood beside her daughter’s bedside.

              To distract her from the discomfort of getting her arm cast, Angus started to talk to Joan. Mario was relieved to see a smile on the resident’s face as he spoke to the young patient, remembering the time when Angus had seemed foreign to him as the Adderall addiction affected him. He was different now. Still the same Angus who could laugh and could make a six-year old girl smile, but there was a new connection between Mario and Angus that the dark-haired resident never thought would occur.

              And yet a part him was glad that Angus understood and accepted that part of him.

              Angus was his best friend, and Mario wasn’t certain now of what his life would be like if the lighter-haired resident hadn’t entered his life.

              Mario continued to observe of how light Angus’ conversation with Joan was. Unlike many other adults, Angus appeared to treat Joan as an equal, not beyond the understanding of a twenty-six-year-old resident. Joan seemed to like him as well, as her mother smiled at the small peals of laughter that came from the child. Mario simply observed.

              He liked observing Angus this way.

              _You’re a great doctor, Angus._

Mario gave a short wave to his friend as the other resident was called to Center Stage. Just as Mario was observing his and Angus’ handiwork, the resident was surprised when the young patient asked him a question.

              “What’s your favorite color, mister?”

              “Hmm?”

              For a moment, Mario’s mind was blank. Joan appeared confused as well, for her forehead crinkled slightly as she repeated the question. _That’s a stupid question,_ was Mario’s first thought. Then he brushed the thought aside, belonging to the old Mario, and was simply confused. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had thought about colors the way a child did. Perhaps an answer would have fit his mind if he had been asked that question as a child. If he had a normal childhood. But Mario’s childhood was not normal. His parents had been plagued by drug addiction, sometimes too caught up in the high to remember they had a son who needed them. Mario had been able to take care of himself since he was ten years old. He had to, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived as long as he had before his parents died. The other colors that came to mind were dark colors – the dark red of blood that had spilled when his father had hit him for the first time across the mouth, the dark brown of his mother’s eyes as she sobbed out of grief from the drug that took over her life, and the clear liquid of his own drug of choice.

              Black for those dead or close to death. Red for serious injuries. Yellow for less serious injuries, and green for minor ones. Mario didn’t know why the information he had learned before going out in the massive car pileup echoed in his mind. He didn’t know why it mattered. Inwardly the resident sighed. Such a simple question should provide a quick answer.

              But Mario wasn’t simple.

              Angus described him perfectly one night after the other resident hadn’t been able to sleep. It had been a week since Angus had stopped using Adderall, and sometimes Mario awoke from a deep sleep to see the flash of Angus’ name across the screen. He always picked up.

              Angus wasn’t Heather.

              _“You’re like an onion. Once you peal one layer, another one remains, more complicated than the rest.”_

_He says that like it’s a good thing._

The only color that came to Mario’s mind was…

              “Blue,” he stated softly.

              “Why blue?” Joan asked. “Mine’s purple.” More seriously she added, “And there’s lots of different kinds of blue too.”

              “Blue is a kind of calm for me, I guess,” Mario confessed. He was somewhat uncomfortable, his thoughts a jumbled mess of what he felt towards this specific color. And now that he thought about it, why did he feel like smiling when he thought of that specific blue. “Ice-blue, really.” He paused. “It’s the only color that comes to mind that I actually like, that feel good about.”

              “Anyway,” Mario asked, “are you ready to go home?”

              Joan nodded, and the dark-haired resident allowed himself an inside smile at the sight of her relief. A child would always want to go home, no matter where they were. And even if they had a friend. It came to Mario after Joan was waving goodbye with her uninjured hand in his direction. For a moment, he thought about how such a simple question from a child could cause such a prolonged response. Then he realized.

              The color he had been talking about was the color of Angus’ eyes.

              For a couple of moments, Mario could only think of what he had just realized about himself. It appeared…that Angus represented a lot to him. His presence, similar to his eyes, conveyed calm and goodness that Mario always felt when he was by Angus’ side.

              And…the goodness he was starting to see in himself.

              _I guess he has that effect on me._

_More than I thought he would._


End file.
